


After All This Time

by ToxicBabes



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Coming Out, Headcanon Intensive, M/M, Minor Smoke/Mute, Moving In Together, One Shot, Paternal!Thatcher, Reunions, Romance, Self-Acceptance, Sunday Roast, The Fortress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/ToxicBabes
Summary: Mike Baker reconnects with an old flame when work calls him to Morocco. For the first time in his life, Jalal El Fassi chooses himself over the Fortress.
Relationships: Mike "Thatcher" Baker/Jalal "Kaid" El Fassi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44





	After All This Time

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: This document was created in January of 2020! (And because of that, Oryx doesn't 'exist' in this fic because by the time he was announced, I had come up with like 60% of the fic and I did not know where he would fit into the equation.) 
> 
> I’d like to add that the Fortress depicted in this does **not** have the same layout as the in-game map. They share similar aesthetics and the general look, but aside from that nothing else. 
> 
> It was certainly interesting to explore a different type of relationship between these two, especially given the time-frame/years they would've been romantically involved with one another which I estimate to be sometime in the 80s. My early concepts of this involved Thatcher being recently divorced and it focused more on his role as a father figure to the rest of the SAS, dealing with loss and disillusionment but then I just put down the concept and didn't work on it after 6.5k words. That was all the way back in Feb-Aug 2019. It wasn't until recently of this year that I toyed with the idea of Thatcher/Kaid but it just struck me one day and I started thinking of coming up with a backstory for them, the different paths they took and whatnot. 
> 
> \+ More discussion of this fic in the end notes ;)

Mike hadn’t heard that name in years, nor did he expect to hear it again within his lifetime. It came from a period of time in his life which he had isolated and placed at the back of his mind in the same fashion one would put away a good book after finishing it, feeling rather disheartened but glad to have experienced it. In the same way, he was reluctant to revisit that part of his life because he knew how it would go, the exact ending and what would happen to him. It took him years to get over it and he didn’t want to spend decades of his already-dwindling life fighting with his own emotions towards someone he could never have.

The dilemma was, no one knew of it. He never told Harry of his association towards this particular individual and not even his teammates, whom he regarded to be like his sons, knew of his presence in Mike’s life. And Mike was adamant that they will never find out about it. He wanted to bring this secret to the grave with him. 

So when Harry called a meeting and gave another of his dreary presentations to show the team who would be coming to join the _family,_ Mike dreaded to see the aged portrait of a former lover. He feared what would become of him as a result of this, whether the ancient fragments of their relationship were lost to dust or if he would rediscover them again, if drifting by _his_ orbit would suck him in and he would spend an eternity trying to escape his thoughts of deep yearning. Despite that, he agreed to go to Morocco. It was out of morbid curiosity, an impulsive decision he made in the heat of the moment when he was surrounded by his teammates. He tried to tell himself it was because he didn’t want to raise suspicions by saying no, but he knew his heart craved for the same experiences he had in his youth.

The Moroccan heat was wicked. Mike swore it wasn’t like this before when they boarded the truck and Mark suggested it could be a product of global warming, to which James sniggered like it was a joke despite his deadpan, unironic tone to his voice. As the truck rolled down dusty roads, James peered out the window towards the wavering horizon and grimaced at the intensity of the roaring sun. 

“Y’think I’ll get a good tan from this?” He quipped then glanced over to Mark, hoping to provoke any kind of response. “Do you like your men tan or pasty, babe?” 

Mark sat frozen and made the mistake of making eye-contact with Mike. The atmosphere took a turn downhill and became unbearably awkward. “Medium rare,” he answered in a sarcastic mumble and returned to looking through the briefing files they were given by Harry. 

When the word got out that his two squad-mates were dating, Mike wasn’t entirely surprised. He read the signals from miles away and could hardly stand watching the two of them skirt around one another, flirting like they were teenagers. From Mark’s ”Uh… wanna get drinks with me later? If- if you want, I know you’re busy and stuff, just thought it would be cool for us to hang out- no pressure though- but do you?” even though he rarely visited the pub out of his own accord, Mike eavesdropped on the worst, corniest jokes which only a knucklehead like James could come up with. Now he had to deal with the two of them falling in love. They were practically glued to each other, always following the other everywhere they went. 

Between them, Mark was more professional. He tried to keep his personal life separate from his career, but James was a wildcard. Some days, an outsider wouldn’t suspect a thing about them, other days, he wouldn’t hesitate to snog him in the car park of Stirling Lines where there were at least three cameras and security staff watching. 

Regardless of how they acted, Mike still loved them as if they were his own. He wished them happiness in their endeavours, even if he was wary of workplace relationships. It was always sweet to see the two of them lazing together after a Sunday roast, crammed onto one armchair with their limbs entangled like two cats snoozing. 

Although when he watched Mark and James, it only highlighted his own dissatisfaction with his life. Failed relationships, the dumpster-truck fire that was his divorce and he was at a loss, unable to live his authentic life while watching them thrive in theirs. Mike grew to accept that he lived in a different time, his circumstances moulded him into the person he was now and it explained why the idea of allowing himself to truly exist, was such a repulsive concept to his mind. He couldn’t imagine himself telling people he also had an attraction towards men, it seemed impossible and the mindsets he learned clung fiercely to him.

“When we get there,” Mike spoke up after a few minutes of silence. James passed his water bottle to Mark, urging him to drink some. “Tone it down a bit… y’know. Just in case, I wouldn’t want you two getting any trouble. Culture’s different here, you never know what can happen.”

James hummed then withdrew his arm which had been slung over Mark’s shoulder. “Gotcha,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Hear that, Mark? Mike says tone it down, quit trying to suck my dick in front of everyone. It’s not cool, mate.”

“Fuck up, Porter,” answered Mark and it was those subtleties that made them seem much more distant than they really were. The playful look they exchanged could be mistaken for being good friends to the untrained eye. 

Seamus, who was only half-awake after his nap, rolled his eyes. His great arms were crossed over his chest, almost hugging himself as he slumped against the window. “Kids,” he muttered and shook his head.

The Fortress was a grand kasbah, constructed by sandy bricks bonded by daub. It hadn’t changed at all. A great metal plaque stretched across the main gate with inscriptions in Arabic, the brass had worn from the passage of time and left a faded imprint. The flag of Morocco drifted in the occasional gust but for the most part, it hung limply on its flagpole like a wilting rose. 

The truck pulled onto the property through the main gates. Having disembarked, they passed by combat drills and briefly caught a glimpse of the gardens where a grand statue of a horse stood on its hind legs, surrounded by a running fountain. The plots of grass in the garden were a lethargic shade of yellow, cowering away from the sun.

They were greeted by one of the soon-to-be members of Rainbow. She insisted on a first-name basis so they were happy enough to address her as Sanaa. Due to the unfortunate timing of their arrival, they went on a brief tour around the facilities as they waited for Jalal to return from overseeing some training. Mike recognised some of the corridors but for the most part, the internal structure of the Fortress had been modernised to an extent. 

The air conditioning had been installed a few years prior, old yet still operational in most sectors of the building, especially in the sleeping quarters. It was no surprise the recreational facilities were a bit lacklustre but Mike was surprised there was a pool table. When he was here decades ago, most soldiers were playing cards, trying to watch a tiny television that would lose signal every few minutes. 

Sanaa led them to the Captain’s office and strolled in without worry. It was clear she made herself at home and she brought them some cooled tea. 

“Usually, up here gets a nice breeze,” she said as she propped open a window then she sat down on the wide sill and gazed out to the valleys. “A perk of being the commander is that you gain this beautiful view and such a relaxing climate when it’s good. I understand why Jalal is hesitant to join Rainbow.”

Mike set his cup down and raised a brow. “I was under the impression that he had already agreed to,” he said and looked towards his teammates who only shrugged back. 

“Oh? Then I’m not too sure, maybe he hasn’t responded to Harry’s offer yet. All I know is that he’s been contacted by him several times in the past and he turned it down every time,” Sanaa said, then she paused as she listened for the sound of footsteps. “Just a warning, he doesn’t know we’re here.”

Everyone was caught off guard in that moment. They set down their glasses and stood as the door opened, looking like they had been caught red handed on the crime scene. Jalal came in clutching a file, clad in khakis and a shirt which was nearly the same colour as the bricks that made up the towering walls of the property. He was a burly man and even Seamus seemed to be surprised by his stature. James looked up at him amusedly then looked towards his teammates, being the only one to move in the tense moment.

In the same way one would have the look of complete disbelief on their face when seeing someone they hadn’t expected to see ever again, Jalal was visibly shocked, his gaze so piercing that Mike felt like the smallest person in the room. Jalal’s lips parted slightly then as he collected himself, he folded over the file he held and cleared his throat, deciding to look towards Sanaa.

“I see you’ve brought some guests,” he said and tried to attempt a smile but Mike could still read him as well as he did over thirty years ago. He was troubled and while his lips curved upwards into a smile of cordiality, his eyes told otherwise. His eyes rested on the Union Jack on James’ T-shirt then he studied each of them for a good few moments before he merely spared a glance at Mike. “Harry sends the SAS after me to goad me into joining Rainbow, is that the plan?” 

Sanaa smiled. “So I guess he hasn’t agreed yet,” she observed then sipped her tea. The casualness between them could come across as closeness, but it was a level of respect they developed towards one another over the years of working together. “Mike here says they were sent to oversee some of your training methods, maybe they could learn from it and it could benefit how Rainbow trains their recruits.”

Jalal furrowed his brows as he jogged his memory and he opened the file, scanned down its contents before he recalled what he was looking for. “Now I remember. He sent me an email about this but I overlooked it. Well, it is my honour to have you here. It’s rare we get guests, especially of your status, so I’ll have someone show you to the facilities you’ll be sleeping at for your stay.” Although that was a lie, he would never _ignore_ an important email from anyone and Mike saw right through it all. “How was the flight over? I’m surprised you aren’t all melting yet.”

It was no surprise that he delivered that line with such stoicism that even James gave a hesitant chuckle. He was always hard to read and Mike found himself smiling at how phlegmatic he was after all these years, debatably more so now that he was older and had less patience for dillydallying. 

“It’s all grand, really. The weather is bloody amazing though, I’ll say that,” James answered him, taking the initiative to engage in conversation while the others sat back. Mark was never one for small talk, while Seamus was busy trying to decipher the best approach to Jalal who remained largely an enigma. “It’s not often England ever hits above twenty-five degrees outside of a couple days in August, so this is quite nice.”

Jalal humoured him with a small chuckle and muttered a brief thank you as Sanaa poured him some tea. “Ah, I’ve nearly forgotten how you Brits love talking about the weather,” he said and his smile was warm, reminiscent of something. “I’d love to stay and talk, but I do have a few meetings to attend soon. I’ll let you get settled down and we’ll catch up at dinner.”

They left the commander’s office together and made their way to the small dorms which had been allocated for them. Once they were a good distance away and not within earshot of anyone, James let out a tiny sigh of relief.

“The size of that lad, _yeesh!”_ He exclaimed under his breath. “He’s taller than you, Seamus. Not much of a talker, is he?”

Naturally, they selected their beds without having to discuss it. Mark and James in one bunk, Seamus and Mike in the other. Luggage was left by the base of their beds and they lazed for the time being, seeing as there wasn’t much to do and it was around an hour before they would be called for dinner. Mike sat down on the edge of his bed and leaned his elbows against his knees as he collected his thoughts. On the bunk above him, Seamus poked his head out to glance down at him.

“‘We’ll catch up at dinner.’” Seamus quoted then pondered for a second. “Sort of implies there _is_ some catching up to do. D’you want to tell us about that, or are you just gonna stay silent about it?”

The cat was out of the bag. All eyes were trained on him now and Mike looked up then felt a frown growing on his face. “What?” He reminded himself to not come across as standoffish otherwise it would provoke more questions. “We knew each other a long time ago, worked together for a bit. Like… more than thirty five years ago, so don’t have a go at me for not telling you something I barely remember.” 

After quantifying the time they were apart, he was reminded of his own age. Considering his colleagues weren’t even born when they met, it certainly put things into perspective and Mike was in disbelief at how time managed to slip by. It felt like it was only yesterday when he was about to leave Morocco for what seemed like the last time in his entire life, abandoning all the memories he made behind in hopes that they wouldn’t haunt him for the next years to come.

“If you ask me, it seems like a bit more than ‘just knowing each other.’ He was pretty surprised to see you when he came in,” Mark piped up and shot him an inquisitive look where he lay sprawled on his bottom bunk. “Did you two have some kind of falling out?” 

Agitated by all the poking and prodding, Mike let out an exasperated sigh of defeat. “Wasn’t a falling out. We were good mates at one point and we didn’t expect to see each other again, that’s all,” he told them.

It was true. The time in which they had developed their relationship was brief, a matter of months yet they managed to fall so deep in and when Mike was stationed elsewhere, he knew there was no way he would maintain it. There were so many factors at play, from the difficulty of communication to the fact that it was a time when men like them were shamed, some were dying of disease and the risks of being themselves weren’t worth it. Once he said goodbye to Jalal, he believed that was it. He tried to let him go and he mourned as if Jalal died because if anything, losing him certainly felt like it.

Now that Jalal was back, Mike felt as if he should be happy about it, even overjoyed about their reunion yet anxiety flooded every crevice of his body and he kept his emotions on a tight leash. An instinct told him this was a trap and if he fell for it, he would only get hurt. It wouldn’t be easy but he knew he had to protect himself, even if his only desires were to find a way back into Jalal’s heart, to claim the space which had been reserved for him.

At the thought of seeing him again at the dinner table, Mike’s stomach coiled into a tight knot and he lost all appetite. It was impossible for him to look at Jalal without all kinds of memories returning to him, he couldn’t fathom attempting to make conversation. Though he couldn’t allow his anxieties to silence him or his colleagues would grow suspicious. He was doing a terrible job of it already and it was only a matter of time before he had to dodge more interrogatory questions. 

When the time came and his teammates were hastily making themselves look presentable, smoothing out ruffled hair and wrinkled shirts from their brief naps, Mike took in a deep breath and braced himself for the coming hour. He left the room last, his responsibilities dragging him by the collar.

They met in the commander’s quarters where dinner was served at a grand, ornate table. The Fortress had Jalal pampered for sure, but Mike did not doubt his duties here were important to warrant such lavish living spaces. After all, this was his home. 

The scent of heartily spiced dishes left Mike feeling decades younger as he recalled the times when he was stationed in Morocco. He missed the food here and the smell alone was enough to return his appetite to him. Settled in the chair next to Jalal, Mike helped himself to some couscous. The dishes were laid out across the table and everyone was welcome to take a bit of whatever they wanted. He watched as Jalal scooped some of the beef from the tagine onto his plate, then without needing to ask, he put a couple spoonfuls onto Mike’s plate as well.

“Your favourite,” Jalal remembered, mentioning it in passing with such a casual tone as if it was just another Friday evening that they happened to be eating together. There was no blazing warmth of familiarity but Mike did not expect anything more than a mellow welcome from him, especially when others were around. 

It took Mike a second to respond but a smile bloomed on his face and he uttered a small thank you before he tucked into his meal. An odd sensation stirred within his chest, perhaps he was touched by the fact that Jalal still remembered those tiny things about him and the thought that he had never left Jalal’s heart left Mike feeling slightly reassured about himself. He waited for the protective aura of Jalal’s presence, though his towering stature just made him feel awfully small.

Dinner did restore some energy to Mike after feeling so drained by stress and the intense climate of Morocco. Eventually they had departed from the dinner table and while the boys returned to their dorms, Jalal invited Mike to stay for some tea and to catch up. Judgement betraying him, Mike didn’t think for a second and agreed to it, almost desperate to find out what had occurred in the decades they were apart. 

Though as they climbed the tiled stairs, Mike grew to realise that a lot had happened to himself as well. Marriage, especially. He didn’t want to admit to Jalal he had been married for almost twenty years in a relationship he couldn’t help but to feel estranged from. It wasn’t easy either, in fact, one which brought great turmoil in his life. 

The whole situation was a mess. Mike followed him into his quarters and once he registered that they were finally alone with one another, he wanted to crumble into a million pieces and he hoped Jalal would piece him back together, hold him in his arms. Christ, it had been years since anyone held Mike and he would kill to have that comforting contact, the ability to bury his face into the crook of someone’s neck and take in their scent. 

Yet, nothing happened. Jalal poured him some tea and they sat on the dark balcony, gazing over the horizon while moths fluttered at the foggy glass door where light flooded out. There was too much to talk about, neither of them knew where to even begin.

“It’s beautiful here,” Mike started and it felt physical to break the silence between them. He savoured the taste of the tea. “I was feeling a bit homesick earlier but seeing this… isn’t so bad now, I suppose.”

A smile played at Jalal’s lips. He hummed in agreement. “And this is my home. The only home I know. You must understand it’s hard to… _tear_ your soul from a place you hold so dear in your heart,” he said and Mike could read the great difficulty he faced, he saw it in Jalal’s troubled gaze. “I think about this everyday. About Rainbow, but then I remember how much I love this place and my soldiers. I don’t know if I can let go.”

Reflecting on their past, Mike knew it was a special privilege to hear such transparency from Jalal. To pour one’s heart out in such a way took strength and Jalal was never one to place what he saw as burdens on anyone’s shoulders, but he trusted Mike. Mike thought about it for a while and understood what it was like to take such a risk, to invest time and effort to place oneself into a position of uncertainty. It was never easy to leave home. 

“It won’t be forever,” said Mike but then he paused and smiled into himself. “‘Course, you know that… but Harry, he isn’t like Six. You can negotiate with him, he can be flexible. If you want more time off to come back here, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d let you. The guy has his head in the clouds.”

The silence that followed made him question if that was the only matter with Jalal, but it seemed there was far more than that. Their eyes met under the heavy dusk of the setting sun and in that very moment, Mike feared Jalal’s blunt forwardness, his double-edged honesty. 

“Do you want me there?” Jalal asked and it became too clear what he was thinking about. 

The only answer present in Mike’s head was yes and only yes. Had he not been paralysed by this confrontation, he would have professed over and over that he would give anything to have Jalal again and it would grant him the universe’s greatest happiness if he could finally find solace in the only arms he knew to be so comforting. Although, it wasn’t as simple as that. It never was.

Clearing his throat, Mike took a sip from his glass. “What I feel regarding a specialist joining Rainbow shouldn’t matter,” he muttered and he was angry at himself for not being able to tell the truth. Yet the thought of saying such things made him anxious, he feared Jalal no longer felt the same way. “This job, Harry’s giving it to you specifically, and I trust his judgement that you’ll be a good asset to the team.” 

Some things never changed over the years and Jalal looked elsewhere, the crease between his brows easing and he knew how to handle him. “But he doesn’t _know._ Face it, Mike, don’t pretend this won’t affect you or the team. You’re important to them and chemistry is crucial in this field. I wouldn’t want to disturb this peace. So tell me, do _you_ want _me_ or would it be better off for us to go our separate ways?”

Not again, Mike couldn’t bear the thought of losing him once more. He swallowed thickly and bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to find a way to weasel out of the situation. “Even if I did hold something against you, it wouldn’t affect my ability to act in a professional capacity,” he tried to say but Jalal was quick to interrupt him.

“Well, do you?” He inquired with a raised brow. 

Lost for words as if he had been struck in the face, Mike stammered for a second, overwhelmed by the relentless assault of questions. “Don’t be thick, if I had something against you, I wouldn’t have come all the way here,” he said, unable to hold back his sour, defensive tone then he noted the look toying at Jalal’s expression, the way the corners of his lips began to flicker upwards. “And you’re just a bastard, El Fassi. Does it inflate your ego to make me talk absolute shite out of my mouth?” 

As he considered it, Jalal poured them some more tea. “Not really. I know I don’t miss the way you never give me a straight answer, _Baker._ ” Oh, how they missed this jest, the easy-going banter and prodding at one another. They laughed over it but once the humour had passed and they were left with nothing but the actual matter to address, Jalal studied him and under his careful gaze, Mike was vulnerable. “I know it hurt. That you’re hurting. It wasn’t easy but… you know what I told you before. I had to move on- I did but you’ve always held a special place in my heart and you still do. I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you.”

 _Then take the job, come with me to England, be with me. Be with me._ The hand of swelling, unrelenting emotion grasped Mike’s throat and choked back every word before it could leave his mouth. He took in a lungful of the crisp, cool air and tried to maintain his composure that was wavering on the precipice of collapse. 

“I don’t _blame_ you for any of it. Sometimes we just have to get on with life and that was what you were doing, and fucking hell… I’m glad you moved on,” Mike found himself admitting and the more he spoke, he began to realise they would not be able to discuss everything in one evening. “I didn’t and it ruined me.”

Insects bleated in the darkness. The moths continued to swarm at the windows, craving for the warm glow of the lamp inside Jalal’s quarters and the temperatures dropped some more. It was beginning to feel like home now and the thin cotton they wore would not be enough to stave off the cold. Regardless, they remained seated.

“I hoped things would’ve been better for you when we parted,” Jalal said, his frown remorseful as if he believed it was his fault Mike was left in such a state. It was difficult to not feel like he carried some of the responsibility, as much as Mike wanted to assure him it was not his doing but of life itself. “I did worry about you for a while. Even after I married my wife, I still occasionally wondered what you were up to, if you were alright. I just didn’t know if you would appreciate me… barging into your life with letters, so I didn’t seek you out. Now I’m wondering if I regret not trying.”

In response, Mike’s expression twitched as if he was wrestling back a painful memory. “Don’t. It’s messy. I did get married to my best friend, and I loved her. I really did but I couldn’t _love_ her. I tried so hard and I wanted to but there was always something holding me back,” he lamented over his tragedy, now wishing he had some alcohol to nurse the pain of his old wounds. “And I hate myself for it. She cared about me and I kept her at a distance. We’re divorced now. Nearly twenty years down the drain and she’s moved on, she’s happy, but I’m just fucking miserable. Ruined everything for myself.”

There wasn’t a whole lot that Mike hadn’t heard yet and Jalal wasn’t one to mindlessly tell him meaningless words for the sake of courtesy in response to such a matter. In the silence that stewed, Mike grew itchy at talking about himself, for spilling all his baggage everywhere, so he looked towards Jalal and observed his watchful eyes. 

“C’mon, less of me. Makes me sad thinking about it. I assume you handled this whole… _life_ thing better than I did. I saw the photos on your desk.” Mike tried to offer a smile but it was difficult to fake it. Although seeing Jalal’s expression brighten did detract his mind from his own pain.

“Hmm? Well, you could say that. I had two sons with my wife. My eldest joined the army but he…” Jalal’s brows creased and he let out a heavy sigh, lips pressing into a thin line. “A roadside IED took him out. He was twenty-seven when he died. My youngest is fine thankfully. He’s a doctor in Casablanca, he had his first child a year ago. I handled it, I did everything I was supposed to but alas.” 

“Jesus… I’m sorry to hear that,” Mike murmured and he couldn’t fathom what it would be like to lose a child. Although it seemed Jalal didn’t want to dwell on his loss for too long, so Mike didn’t want to say any more and drag it out. “How’s your wife?” 

The pause made him regret asking. Jalal mustered a bittersweet smile. “She passed as well. Breast cancer,” he told him and the thought pained him. He took a long drink from his cup and settled his gaze over the horizon, even though it was pitch black now. “I just try to focus on what I have left now. I miss her sometimes, but I think she would’ve wanted me to move on. It’s been nearly ten years.” Then he shrugged and seemed to reflect on his thoughts, maintaining his equanimity as always. “You see, Mike, you can do everything right. I loved my wife as much as I loved you back then. I still lost her and my son. It’s never fair but there’s no point focusing on that. It’s important to focus on your own happiness.”

One would think at this age, Mike would’ve known this by now but there were times where he felt too naive for his own good, blinded by his anguish. He missed Jalal’s wisdom and his ability to keep focus on what truly mattered. 

Then Jalal continued. “I’m perfectly happy here, but I know Rainbow can give this place better resources and opportunities. If anything it would be my honour to join Rainbow but I don’t want to cause you any pain. You matter to me and I wouldn’t want to hurt you again,” he said, his words so true and honest that it pained Mike to hear it. “You don’t need to answer me right away, but please, Mike. Be truthful to me.”

As Jalal stood and picked up his empty cup, Mike noticed how time managed to slip by him so easily. He followed him inside and watched, fidgeted restlessly as Jalal set the pitcher of cooled tea on his desk, awaiting the perfect moment to speak. When Jalal sensed he wasn’t going anywhere, he looked towards him.

“I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t want to think about, y’know… with your wife and your son,” Mike began, unable to shake the feeling that his apology wasn’t enough. “It mustn’t be easy for you at all.”

At his sincerity, Jalal smiled back. “It’s okay, I wanted to share it with you.” He walked Mike to the door and showed him the exit but before he allowed him to leave, Jalal pulled him into a tight embrace. The contact surprised Mike at first, then he held him back and relished in the sensation he yearned for decades. He drew in a deep breath and held it as he imprinted the firmness of Jalal’s body into his memories, afraid to forget it. “I missed you, it was nice to talk to you again. Have a good night, alright?”

Barely able to process a thought, Mike managed to nod. “You too,” he said and only after he left did he curse himself for saying so little and in such a vague manner.

He wandered down the labyrinth of hallways which felt familiar yet he couldn’t navigate this complicated building for the life of him. Eventually he found his way back to their dorms and he entered discreetly, hoping not to disturb his colleagues. The thin beam of light from the hallways provided some illumination and on the left bunk he noted two bodies asleep on the bottom bed, limbs tangled and the two beings were pressed close together to fit onto the small mattress. 

Seeing Mark and James always left Mike reminiscent of his past, or wondering what could have been had he not parted ways with Jalal. He tried not to dwell on it for too long as previous experiences only left him horribly blue with his own reality. 

In this moment, Mike’s weariness was quickly taking over him and he only realised now how exhausted he was, unable to afford thinking of anything too complicated. He climbed onto his bed and the metal frame strained under his weight, loud enough to wake up Seamus who seemed to be withered in the stagnant heat of their room.

* * *

Compared to England, Morocco was a world of a difference in terms of weather. With the intense sun in the afternoon, most intensive exercise was done in the early morning when it was still cool enough. They woke at the crack of dawn and found themselves amongst the rest of the soldiers for breakfast. In the air-conditioned cafeteria they ate and conversed with the local soldiers who were curious about their business here. 

While Mike was not the most talkative in the mornings, James and Seamus were more than happy to take the reins. 

They went on a hike along the rough terrain of the mountainous land surrounding the Fortress. In file as if they were mere recruits again, they kept up the pace with the rest of the group, huffing and puffing as they hauled their heavy backpacks along. This sort of training reminded Mike greatly of his youth and while fitness was maintained thoroughly at Rainbow, there was something different about jogging in one giant group surrounded by the wilderness which a clean gym could not provide.

Once they had reached the apex of their climb, they paused for a water break and caught their breaths, settling down on the dusty rocks to rest their legs. Mike sipped at his canteen and from the corner of his eye he caught the small interactions between James and Mark. A hand reaching up to run away a smear of sunscreen left on Mark’s cheek, the gentle looks they shared towards one another and how James would raise a brow to inquire if he was holding up in the warming climate. 

It was all the non-verbal communication that spoke the most between them, the lack of need to voice a desire for it to be understood. For a guy who was known for his boisterous attitude to almost anything, James was awfully soft and gentle with Mark which was incredibly strange to observe. Yet from knowing how the two of them got along, Mike wasn’t surprised by his behaviour now. 

There was a brief moment where Mark appreciated the affection but then he shifted away, remembering where they were. At James’ confusion, he only responded with a steady stare before he motioned around them. As if a light bulb turned on in his head, James’ expression lit up with a grin and he elbowed Mark, giving him a playful nudge before they looked elsewhere and tried not to be too conspicuous. 

This kind of bond was something Mike missed. It was a language formed between two individuals over time and Mike recalled the simple joys of being _understood_ by someone. For a slither of a second he thought of his marriage but once he remembered how his inability to open up had effectively stifled the opportunity for anything meaningful to form, he shoved those thoughts to the deepest recesses of his mind. He wondered what it would be like if he was able to actually tell his spouse how he felt, though it would’ve been impossible. The matter was far too shameful for him to bear the thought of telling anyone, especially to someone who would not understand right away.

Although with Jalal, it wasn’t an issue at all. It was who they were, their attraction for one another and Mike felt safe around him, free from judgement and his own shame. It was the distinction between him and any other woman that could exist. What Mike could openly admit to Jalal was not the same case even with the woman he regarded as his best friend. To be able to close this distance was something he wanted for years now and at this age, he hoped it wouldn’t be too late for it.

On the final stretch of the journey back to the Fortress, his mind began to drift. It was veering dangerously close to the afternoon and by now the temperatures had risen considerably. The Brits were beginning to feel the effects of the heat, from reddened cheeks to dripping sweat. Although they managed the jog, proving themselves worthy to the local soldiers who found amusement in their inability to handle the sun. The second they returned to the Fortress, they shrugged off their heavy backpacks and slugged down as much water as their stomachs could handle.

Mike’s head swirled as he rested under a shade. He had regained his breath but his thoughts moved like molasses and the air around him was lethargic. His body rejected the blazing sun and he closed his eyes, flinching from the brightness of it against the sandy ground. Seamus said something to him yet his voice was muffled as if someone had clasped their hands over Mike’s ears. A hand gripped his shoulder and Mike tried to shrug it off as he stood, but his legs gave out from under him and every morsel of energy in his body disappeared. 

“Mike? Hey, get a medic! Mike, mate, look at me.” James’ voice was distinct and while Mike took in his command, he could barely focus his eyes on the flushed expression in front of him. “You alright? Don’t try to get up- Mark, give us that bottle.”

So many faces yet Mike could barely make sense of any of them. The muffled speech around him was as suffocating as the air, overwhelming. They helped him to the infirmary, heaving his dead weight to find a clean bed and a medic to check him through like how a mechanic would get an engine running again. It felt awful to have so many people worried about him and Mike knew his colleagues would ignore his assurances that he was okay.

The medics declared it was just heat exhaustion after some examinations and they prescribed him some rest, plenty of water. While Mike would have preferred to sleep in their dorms, he was far too exhausted to even think of sitting up so he gave in and allowed his weariness to pull him into a deep slumber on the infirmary bed. It was slightly too bright, too warm and after several long hours, he grew aware of the scratchy sheets beneath him and he blinked awake.

His tongue was dry and heavy in his mouth. A throbbing pain ached at the base of his neck and as he furrowed his brow, his skin felt stiff near his left temple. He reached a hand up to touch it, finding a rough scab had formed over the wound there and he drew in a sharp breath. 

“How are you feeling?” 

That voice woke him up at that very moment. Mike looked towards Jalal where he sat by his bedside, a closed file sitting in his lap and Mike wondered how long he had been there. Jalal set it aside and paced to the end of his bed where he poured a generous glass of water and brought it back to him, urging him to sit up and drink.

“I’ve seen better days,” Mike grumbled in response, earning a chuckle. He made himself drink even though he was nauseous. For a brief moment, Jalal had touched the side of his face to inspect the wound on his temple though it did not linger. There was a privacy curtain drawn but there were still staff present in the infirmary and they wouldn’t risk anyone finding out. “It’s ‘cos I’m getting old, isn’t it?”

A smile brightened Jalal’s neutral expression. “Compared to most men your age, you’re in incredible shape. It’s just the heat,” he reassured him and it didn’t fail to make Mike grin as well. “Your boys were looking poorly as well.”

“My boys,” Mike quoted with a hint of amusement, humouring himself. For a moment he thought about addressing Jalal’s impeccable ability to flatter him but he didn’t have to say it, they both knew. “What are they up to now?” 

“I told them to explore the local town for a while and have dinner. They were worried sick,” Jalal said. “They really do care about you.” 

“Yeah, if I wither away then James’ll be in charge of making Sunday roast, and he doesn’t do it quite right,” Mike joked but under his hubris he was truly grateful to have such a close bond with his colleagues. He didn’t have much left in his personal life, hardly any family and no children of his own, but he would be glad to call those men his family. 

Their conversation was interrupted by a medic checking up on him and Jalal waited outside while they made sure Mike was clear of any symptoms from his condition. The nap did rejuvenate him but his legs remained tender from the long jog and it showed when Mike followed Jalal to his quarters to continue catching up and sate their hunger.

With the evening sun leaving the tiled floors hot enough to burn skin, they sat in the shade of the balcony and allowed the slight breeze from the wide valleys to cool them. Chilled tea proved to be a delicacy in this intense heat and even when their conversation ran short, it was still pleasurable to sit and drink. Although at some point, their pitcher ran dry and Mike went to retrieve another. His wandering gaze caught the photo frame sitting on the desk and he picked it up, studied the faded photo of Jalal and his family. 

Judging by the grey hairs at his temple, Jalal was no younger than forty in this photo but his beard was still dark, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes weren’t as deep as they were now. Mike found himself smiling as he admired the portrait before he put it back where it was. He returned to the balcony.

“It’s just… incredible- you know, I thought I’d never see you again, yet here we are and I’m learning of all that’s happened,” Mike began, wondering what he wanted to say as all his thoughts were disjointed, a tangled mess in his head. “I used to think ‘that was that’ and it was just a stage in my life that I had to move on from. Small fucking world.”

Jalal arched a brow. “Thought I’d be spending my days here but now I’m thinking otherwise,” he shared and they smiled towards one another, exchanging those fond looks that they were too familiar with. He gave a wistful sigh. “Now that we’re old and grey, the world is moving on and changing. Sometimes I wish it could’ve been like that when we were younger.”

“Never too late to start,” Mike mused and watched as Jalal poured them more tea. Their eyes met for a brief moment after the suggestion and Jalal seemed to be in deep thought as he looked towards the valley basked in golden light. “If that’s the direction you’re wanting to take. My door’s open, I’ve nothing to lose now.”

“I know. I have no doubts with what I feel for you, it hasn’t changed at all. The issue is that I’m… _attached_ to this place,” Jalal tried to explain and it was clear this was something he had pondered over for hours on end. “I’m torn, Mike. And I _worry_ about what will happen here if I leave. I’ve invested so much time and my life, I can’t just-” 

It was not of Jalal’s character to be anxious. He cut himself off mid-sentence, frustrated at his sudden outburst of energy. Mike frowned and he wished there was some relief he could provide. “I’d love to tell you to be selfish for once, but that would be wrong of me since you’ve devoted so much of yourself to this place. It’s clear that this fulfills you and I’d feel wrong to ask you to leave all of this behind.” 

“Yet you’re here speaking to me, sent by your boss in hopes to persuade me to take the job,” Jalal pointed out in light humour, trying to navigate the heavy conversation without weighing it down too much. “And I’m doing it for you- for _us._ If it were any other organisation I wouldn’t spend more than a minute thinking about it. I am being selfish, I am thinking of myself now. But what commander would I be if I leave for love and allow this place to fall apart?”

Mike understood what it was like to feel such strong dedication towards duty, it was all he had known when he was caught within his marriage that provided him nothing but inner turmoil. He tried to offer a comforting smile. “And I thought I was the dramatic one,” he said and nudged him. “It won’t fall apart. You won’t let it. You’ve never doubted yourself before, don’t do it now.”

While the tension in Jalal’s brows seemed to ease, the issue at hand would always loom over him. He tried to let it go and he no longer wanted to dwell on such a topic, he didn’t want to burden Mike with it. Yet there was nothing else they could talk about as anything that came to mind was where they wanted to go in the future and what was left for them in this world, what could they salvage in the ruins of their relationship?

Eyes were watching Mike, studying his features and the awareness of it made his skin prickle all over in coyness. He mustered the courage to look at Jalal with his signature brazen gaze, managing to impress him as the corners of his lips twitched. “Like what you see?” Mike asked and cocked a brow, feeling like an absolute fool but this sort of silliness was reserved for a small amount of people in his life.

Jalal held back his laughter. “You have aged well, yes. You’re still as handsome,” he gave the compliment that had Mike almost red in embarrassment as he fidgeted with his hands. 

“The hairline wasn’t what it used to be unfortunately,” Mike murmured then he cleared his throat. “You’ve held up quite well too.”

“Quite well? Flirting with me, Baker?” While Jalal was not always expressive of what he felt, Mike caught his eyes studying his lips and his chest filled with a tingling sensation, waiting for Jalal to do something. “It’s been… _years_ since I’ve been able to talk to anyone like this. I do miss you a lot.”

It took every thought in his head to convince him to do such a thing. The distance between them wasn’t far at all, in fact, they were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder. It never occurred to him why he didn't sit across from Jalal, but he preferred it this way. Less eye contact to interfere with his thoughts. Mike reached over to grasp his hand. Jalal responded to his contact and squeezed back in return, allowing their fingers to interlock. 

“I’m glad I came back then,” Mike told him as he studied their hands, the band of pale skin on Jalal’s left ring finger where his wedding ring once was. With this contact already tempting him, he leaned over to press a kiss against Jalal’s cheek, to feel his thick beard against skin just like the old days. Jalal responded to his actions with the same wanton and he grasped his hand tighter. “You’ve got no clue how lonely it’s been.”

Jalal turned to face him, allowing their faces to touch and he closed his eyes as Mike nudged against him, brows furrowing. “I’m here now, focus on that,” Jalal urged and he understood the desperation Mike felt for him, the agonising ache in his chest for something which had been put on hold for so long. 

They returned inside to his quarters for the rest of the night. For years they had set aside their desires and inner selves in pursuit of a life that would be accepted by society, and while Jalal had found someone else, it never changed the fact that he loved Mike and there would always be a place in his heart for him. There was no other man he could be so tender and truthful with. For Mike, he knew he could be vulnerable with Jalal, he could trust him and find sanctuary in his arms. While they survived those decades apart, for Mike he hadn’t felt as if he _thrived_ until now. 

A light breeze came in from the stained windows of the bedroom, propped ajar. The sheets were thin, made of a stiff and durable material. It was an unusual sensation to lie next to someone again and the bed felt too spacious. Mike blinked at the pattern on the ceiling until the mattress dipped next to him and Jalal had returned with a glass of water and a towel.

“Are you staying for the night?” He asked Mike, settling down on his side of the bed and he cast a look towards him. 

“Wouldn’t hurt. The lads’ll be out all night, they won’t notice me missing,” Mike muttered back and he knocked back the entire glass of water before setting it on the bedside table. He saw Jalal beckon him to come close and he obliged, falling into the protection of his arms and he rested his cheek against Jalal’s chest, feeling the hairs against his skin. Jalal’s hand rested over the thick muscle of his bicep and the simple act of placing an arm around him gave Mike a security he hadn’t experienced in years. 

He belonged here and now having tasted the sweetest pleasures of being loved, Mike did not want to let go of it for a second. The door was locked, a precaution they took then and they did it now. To be held in such a warm embrace was like easing a tight knot out of muscle, taking off a pair of boots that were laced too tight. Mike was able to relax, breathe, and trust the silence that settled between them. An equilibrium had been restored in this presence and he relished this peace.

Jalal looked down at him, studying the way Mike’s brows furrowed as he concentrated on memorising this specific sensation in fear that he may never experience anything like it again. “Do you still think of us?” He asked out of the blue, but without hesitation. He had been thinking of asking this, probably since they made eye contact on the first day and now that he weighed all the possible outcomes, he was confident in proposing the question. 

Mike opened his eyes. “Too often,” he answered and the mere thought of it pained him, of those years he spent waiting for anything alike to what they had. “Used to think of you all the time. I would dream of you, it drove me crazy. Haunted by the bloody ghost of Jalal El Fassi.” 

If sleep wasn’t an issue, Mike would speak to him until the sun rose, and until it set once more. There wasn’t a second of his day where he did not crave to seek him out, to see and talk to Jalal about anything and everything. Yet they fell asleep holding one another as if they were those youthful men decades ago, when Jalal’s hair was an inky black and Mike wasn’t racked and tormented by his dissatisfaction with the world.

In the early hours of the morning, Mike blinked awake. He couldn’t stay here, if his colleagues discover him missing from his bed then there would be questions for sure and the base would be suspicious as to why he’d never left the quarters since the early evening of the previous night. There was certain risk here and Mike did not want to take any of them, he wouldn’t jeopardise their safety like that.

Careful not to wake Jalal, Mike tried to slip out but the second he shifted Jalal’s arm, he stirred in his sleep.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Mike spoke in a soft tone, a hand reaching to caress Jalal’s cheek, brushing against his beard. He pressed a firm kiss onto his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

Within minutes Mike got dressed. After so many years in the army he was able to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice and now he was undertaking a covert mission to return to his dormitory undetected. The entire Fortress was asleep at this time and he stepped wearily down dark, empty hallways, retracing his steps back to the dorms they were provided. 

The door squeaked on its hinges but knowing his colleagues were likely in a deep slumber, Mike was able to enter without waking anyone up. He moved through the pitch darkness to his empty bed and winced at the screech of the metal bed-frame withstanding the weight of his body. Although once he settled in, it did not take long for him to fall asleep again.

* * *

It was only fourteen days, their stay. By then the squad had grown accustomed to the warm heat of Morocco, the cuisine and culture, and they were saddened to give up this trip. James was more than happy to call it a vacation. Mike spent almost every evening in Jalal’s quarters and by the time he had to leave, he was overcome with reluctance. The irrational side of him feared that he would return to another lifetime of solitude but he reminded himself that wouldn’t be the case.

The trucks were on standby near the gates of the grand kasbah, engines rumbling heartily and the vibrations travelled through the dusty ground. As they waited for personnel, they rested in the shade and spoke with the local soldiers who wished to say goodbye. The chatter died down and Mike looked up to see Jalal approaching with Sanaa. The drivers arrived too and it was clear they were leaving now.

Jalal gave the squad a polite nod then he rested his eyes on Mike. His lips curved into a small smile but the look in his eyes showed a fondness only Mike knew of. He pulled Mike into a brief hug, giving him a firm pat on the back before pulling away.

“I suppose I’ll say goodbye for now?” Jalal said and he took in the morose look marring Mike’s face. He knew the reason for his sullen expression, it was the heat and their departure. Although a man like Mike belonged in the cold, rainy heart of England. 

Mike nodded back and he took in a breath as he cast his gaze over the Fortress. He looked back to Jalal. “Consider it, won’t you?” He requested- no, he commanded and he knew Jalal could not disobey. It was an order to think of all conversations they had together, those evenings spent sipping on chilled tea and enjoying each other’s presence again. He trusted Jalal to weigh his choices carefully. “I’ll keep in contact, mate.”

At the fraternal endearment, Jalal smiled wider. He watched them board the vehicles, his gaze unwavering. Mike glanced over to him once more as the truck began to roll along the dirt path and he waved at him through the tinted glass. He received no response, but he knew Jalal saw. 

The last memory of him was his tall silhouette, poised and formidable by the gates of the Fortress.

Despite returning to England, to his home, Mike felt as if there was a part of him missing when he dumped his luggage by the door of his apartment. The flat felt too spacious and empty, especially for a single person. There was a reason why he tried to live on the Iron Maggie. The walls were closer, he wasn’t constantly reminded of his loneliness when the creaking of the aged wood filled the silence and the gentle rock of the old vessel lulled him to sleep. 

There wasn’t much to do now, no one to talk to. Mike checked the clock for the second time within the span of ten minutes before he retrieved a can of beer from the fridge and settled on the sofa to watch some television. Anything to fill the void. Unfocused, he allowed the boring plot of a soap opera to distract him for the evening, hopefully until he felt tired enough to sleep. Though midway through, his phone buzzed. 

The notification gave him a burst of energy and he checked it, expectant of Jalal, although it was only James. A message into their group chat asking whether Mike was happy to continue their weekly tradition of Sunday Roast. It hadn’t occurred to him then that tomorrow was Sunday and Mike asked himself if he had the energy to pep himself up for it. Though he talked some sense into himself. It wasn’t that he was fatigued by the idea of interaction, he was simply wallowing in his loneliness. In hopes that the company of his boys would remedy it, Mike confirmed he would be cooking them a roast as usual, and that it was Seamus’ turn to bring beer.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom. To Mike’s surprise, he did receive a short text message just before eleven o’clock from Jalal. It wasn’t anything elaborate or sentimental, but a message telling him to sleep well. To an outsider’s perspective, it didn’t mean much but Mike understood the message as if it were one of Jalal’s tender kisses on the cheek. Finding himself smiling, Mike hastily thumbed a message in response before he did fall asleep.

The next day he busied himself with getting the roast ready. A lie-in until it was shy of the afternoon then Mike took a trip to the shops for groceries, buying the usual which seemed to be an absurd amount of food for one man, but just enough for the lads who were often wanting seconds after a generous plate. 

There was one thing Mike prided himself on and that was his ability to make a good meal. He recalled the first time he cooked for Mark and the younger man, on the brink of falling into a food coma, had proclaimed he was simply amazing at making food that tasted of home. Even James was keen to look over his shoulder to learn his culinary techniques in hopes to replicate such a dinner for his daughter. While Mike never had children of his own, there was definitely something fatherly about his cooking, perhaps it was the familial love towards the boys that spurred his dedication to make sure they didn’t go a Sunday feeling disappointed.

The mood of the apartment lifted the second Mike heard the three raps on his door. Without having to check the peephole, he answered the door and allowed them in, embracing the sudden burst of chatter. It always brought a little peace to Mike’s mind when they were around, he was never fully comfortable with silence- or rather, being by himself. To him, life was always better shared with other people and on occasions he invited other colleagues to enjoy a Sunday with them too. Jordan was a frequent visitor and not long ago they welcomed Grace. 

With a match of football playing on the television, Seamus helped load the beer into the fridge, James took over with cutting the vegetables and Mike set Mark to peel the potatoes while he tended to the beef that was cooking in the oven. Fresh aromas wafted through the apartment and by the time the timer brushed thirty minutes remaining, they were complaining of hunger. 

The bubbling energy died down after dinner, once bellies were full and they were slugging back the rest of their beer, now satisfied and content. They rested for a while before Seamus offered to do the cleaning up and the other two followed suit to lazily dry the dishes and get distracted in conversation. Of course it wouldn’t be Mike if he didn’t have a hand in this, he never enjoyed being the bystander so he packed the leftovers into Tupperware for Seamus to take away. 

“So, where’d you go?” James asked out of the blue, absentmindedly wiping at a plate with the tea towel in his hands even though it was bone dry by now. “Back in Morocco. You’d disappear for hours in the evening.”

“Just having a chat with Jalal, catching up.” Mike gave a shrug and laid it out plain and simple. There was no lying involved because they really were doing that for the most part. 

Cocking a brow, James passed the plate to Mark where it was stowed away in the cupboard. “Surely he can’t be that interesting,” he joked. 

“A lot happens in what? Thirty years? More, even,” Mike told him. “Marriage, kids, all that. It was nice hearing how he got on after we stopped talking.”

“Harry’s impressed,” Seamus broke in then gave a gruff chuckle. “Another _rock_ for his fucking collection, hm?” 

They laughed over it but a part of Mike was unsure what to make of this talk, if it was veering into a touchy territory given how James was probing him for information- or just being his usual, nosy self. It was only a matter of time before they would find out and Mike was counting down the days, debating with himself when he should tell them. They were almost family and he could trust them, yet Mike was not accustomed to being able to tell people about this specific aspect of his life.

“So he’s going to be moving in with me,” Mike spoke up as he handed the dirty oven dishes over to Seamus. “Probably near Christmas, I think.”

At first it didn’t come as any significant news but then Mark paused and he was visibly confused. “You’ve only got one bedroom, mate,” he pointed out. Everyone halted but the tap kept running and the soaking plate in James’ hand dripped all over the countertop. “ _Oh,_ right.” Mark cleared his throat then continued putting the dried dishes back.

The kitchen became entangled by this shock and for a while no one knew what to say. Mike began to regret bringing it up but there was no other way around it and he was not capable of a more elegant approach. 

“That’s great, Mike.” Seamus offered a warm smile and he continued scrubbing at the stubborn grease on the dishes. 

They were too conscious of treating this matter as if it was no big deal but it was obvious that it wasn’t just some odd fact they learnt about Mike. He wished it was an odd fact, then maybe they wouldn’t make such a big fuss out of it like they were now with the horrible silence and the exchange of clueless glances. 

When it came to James and any serious matter, there was a high probability he would say the first thing to come to mind and Mike dreaded to hear it. Although as James’ lips parted to speak, he paused for a moment as if to think. “So that’s what it was all about,” he said, musing and he raised a brow towards Mark. “You didn’t have to hide it from us, mate. You’re family, we’re all here for one another.”

The sentimentality of the whole situation was enough to make the skin crawl, but Mike stood still and tried to lift his gaze from the tiled floor. He shrugged it off. “I wasn’t hiding,” he muttered but he was unsure of the honesty of his answer. He reached for his can of Guinness, swallowed it back then cleared his throat. “I mean, there was never any point in telling you lot. I wasn’t seeing anyone. Well, I am now, sort of, which brings us to this point.” 

There was no reason to stand around the kitchen. They settled down by the television, sprawled out on the sofas and armchairs where they had claimed their spots. 

“So, like… you two go back, like way back?” Mark asked out of the blue when the commercials started playing. 

“Something like that,” Mike said. “Then I got stationed somewhere else, we decided to break it off and I lost contact with him. Doesn’t matter though, he got married and I got married. It would’ve made no difference.”

Although he considered for a moment it would’ve helped him come to peace with their separation. Knowing that Jalal found a woman he loved, that he was safe and happy, it would’ve brought Mike some comfort. Back then he had no choice than to fear the worst, from losing him in combat or to disease. It was rampant then, they had no idea how it spread or how to treat it effectively. There was only fear and stigma surrounding the entire issue and Mike did not seek connections with other men, but chose to settle down. It was safer that way.

The circumstances of his life were unfortunate to say the least. There was a reason why he held a soft spot for Mark. The younger man embodied many things Mike had wished he could’ve been. Affluent background, intelligent, _free._ To be born into a society that was largely accepting of who he was, to be happy in life and able to be open about his relationships. Mike was happy for him. 

Though now Mike was trying to live for himself. At this age, he would’ve thought that it would be stupid to even attempt to find love again. Too old for it, he used to think. There was opportunity now, from the shift in attitudes of society to his own desire to be happy. While he disliked the phrase of life being too short, it was true to an extent and he knew he could only cherish the time left over to be with Jalal again.

Jalal moved in not long before Christmas. It was snowing when Mike drove to the airport but the soaking streets of England meant there was no opportunity for the snow to build up. It was rare to have the sight of idyllic white streets blanketed by snowfall. The weather was no different than usual during this season and Mike was acclimated to that it didn’t occur to him it would be quite the shift from Morocco. 

He saw him at the arrivals gate and it would be a lie to say the sight didn’t shock him. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Jalal in civilian clothing, but he certainly liked it. They shared a brief embrace before leaving the airport and Mike had to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming at all.

If he were to tell his past self that they would be living together some day, his past self would have laughed in his face.

After living alone for so long, Mike had to get used to waking up with someone by his side, making breakfast for two. While it was a sudden change, it brought him a happiness he had been missing for a majority of his life. They weren’t like a couple on honeymoon, but Mike thrived on this companionship and he realised now how isolated he had been. 

Christmas wasn’t a significant holiday for either of them. Jalal didn’t celebrate it and Mike stopped years ago, seeing little point in it. Although, he still did the annual shopping for the lads and his family. There was the social obligation, but aside from that Mike had little to celebrate. This year, it was slightly different. 

“I know you don’t celebrate Christmas, but,” Mike began when they sat down after dinner. A small smile brightened Jalal’s face as he knew what was happening and he could not protest what was to come. “When I was shopping, I saw this and I got it for you. I mean, you don’t have many clothes for this weather so I just… here.” 

He was never good at wrapping gifts and he handed the present over to save Jalal the pain of having to sit through his speech. The package was covered in sellotape, asymmetrical but made with love. 

“You really didn’t have to,” Jalal said, his composure crumbling as he smiled more, touched by the gesture. He tore the wrapping paper apart by the seams and inspected the folded sweater, feeling the thick yarn that was sturdily woven. “This is really nice, I love it- you should’ve told me you were going to buy me a present, Mike. I didn’t get you anything.” 

Trying to play it off cool, Mike scrunched up the wrapping paper and shrugged. “I got you, that’s all I need,” he said and he hoped his complexion wasn’t flushed as heat had stormed his cheeks. “But seriously, it means a lot to have you. I know you had to give up so many things to be here.” 

There was a pause between them. Jalal reached for his hand and squeezed it firmly as he drew a breath, collecting his thoughts. “I didn’t have much of a personal life with the Fortress. I loved my wife and my sons, I really did, but the Fortress demanded so much of me. I feel like I could’ve done more for her,” he said, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “Even my son, I feel like there is a distance between us that I won’t ever be able to close. I don’t want to do that to the people I love the most and I don’t want to do that to you. Not after all this time.”

The weather lifted in February but the temperatures remained as low as always. As Sundays passed by and Mike continued to host their weekly dinner together as a squad, it didn’t take long for Jalal to become well acquainted with the others and they welcomed him into their tight-knit family. His presence was unexpected to visitors like Grace, but she did not think much of it. 

As time passed, the apartment began to change too. This was their nest now and Mike started to care about how it looked, the comfort of the space. They replaced the old rug in the living room for the first time in years, installed new curtains and even painted a wall to breathe some life into the apartment. It never occurred to him why James and Mark made such a huge fuss over buying their first house but now that Mike was trying to create a place to call home, he understood the desire of wanting somewhere of the highest standard for one’s spouse. 

The true domestic lifestyle captured Mike. He didn’t think he would enjoy it so much but the evenings spent cooking together, where Jalal tried to teach him recipes he vaguely remembered and they would create a disaster of a meal then opt for takeout, it left him feeling so fulfilled, so content. Eventually he did look up recipes of cuisine from Morocco and filled his spice racks with ingredients he would’ve never thought to use. Surely at some point Jalal felt homesick, or at least yearned for some aspect of Morocco. England was not exactly a paradise, but it was habitable. In hopes to master comfort food, they embarked on this journey and Mike was wading in the darkness with unfamiliarity, Jalal as his beacon of light towards the goal of being able to cook something that reminded him of home.

It wasn’t just Mike who enjoyed the change. Freed from the rigorous duties, Jalal allowed himself to relax. Not merely putting his feet up and calling it a day, but releasing his mind from the heavy burdens that the Fortress placed upon him. While he wasn’t handing away total control over his command, he was relieved from many of the responsibilities. Plus, living in a civilian home for the first time in years left him wondering what liberties he had been granted, perhaps he could finally own a cat of his own that wasn’t a passing stray.

With Spring approaching and the weather improving, Mike proposed he would take them out to sea on the Iron Maggie. It had been months since he sailed her due to the seasons and the lack of free time. When they finally had a morning to themselves, Mike drove them to the pier and they prepared for a brief voyage into the afternoon.

The ship was old but dependable. The paint had worn from the wood and dust collected below deck. There were visible repairs made to various places of the ship and it was clear Mike invested his heart into this small vessel. Docked, the Iron Maggie wasn’t spectacular but once they were out at sea, she rode the waves as if she was brand-new. 

The waters were calm today. No rough jostling over the churning waves, just a stillness that rocked them. Mike leaned against the icy railings and turned his gaze to the horizon where the skies were a continuous stretch of grey. Pale clouds drifted by and the sun was nowhere to be seen but there was no threat of rain to come, only a steady ambience surrounding him and for a second he forgot the sensation of the wind. 

“Here,” Jalal spoke softly and he passed him a warm mug of tea. By now he learnt how Mike liked his tea made. It was always a pleasure to be surprised by a hot beverage. An arm coiled around Mike’s midsection and Jalal’s chest pressed into his back. He nuzzled into the side of Mike’s face in a gentle, affectionate manner. With his free hand, Mike touched Jalal’s woollen sleeve and relaxed into his hold, protected from the cold breeze brushing by. “My captain.”

**Author's Note:**

> So as I was creating Kaid's backstory I was very much aware of Harry's comment that, "He's sacrificed a personal life for the success of his Fortress, and his role makes it difficult to create interpersonal relationships." And it did get me thinking about all the possibilities of what could've happened to him but I settled for him 'adjusting' to the separation, succeeding in living a socially accepted life and actually moving on from his previous love, but in ways he did fuck it up with his inability to balance his own life with his duties (implying there is a balance lol) and as you can see I've decided part of his growth as a character is making sacrifices for himself and his own happiness. 
> 
> With Thatcher, I do enjoy the idea that he has a lot of internal struggle which he coped with by sinking his mind into his duties. I wish there was more I was able to write about his turmoil of marrying the woman he considered his best friend but ultimately being unable to fulfil her needs, whether that be his sexuality or his lack of emotional availability. In the end he's left with no one and he finds a lot of solace in having his teammates around, so taking this journey to Morocco was a mixture of him seeking closure (ie what happened to Kaid, does he still feel the same way) and it leads to him taking a second chance with romantic endeavours, I suppose.
> 
> It was really enjoyable exploring this pairing, given that they are older characters in comparison to other operators and I did go through feelings of inadequacy trying to portray them but hell, it's all fiction. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


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